Haymarket Candy Shop
my gaze from the wooden Haymarket beams
toward the opening door. A breeze blows, as
another adolescent arrives.
she craves sweet and sour and
not cinnamon spice.
as steps grow louder, my thoughts blur, and my hope fades, that
my time draws near.
I flinch as I’m
embraced by the pudgy hands of a child.
Please don’t eat me!
for the comfort of my candy jar
as she approaches the counter.
to the stern chatter from mother toward daughter.
No, dinner waits at home.
to my home, to my jar, on the shelf of the candy store,
watching the toddler trot.
fearing the ditty jingle of the bell as the door opens
for the next family to arrive...